For Better or For Worse
by piperholmes
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: "Could you please write how Ross asks Demelza to marry him or what happened after the wedding because in the church scene they all look awkward." Begins immediately following where Ross goes after Demelza in ep 3. multi-chapter.
1. Chapter 1

**For Better or For Worse**

 **Part 1**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **A/N: Tumblr prompt:** "Could you please write how Ross asks Demelza to marry him or what happened after the wedding because in the church scene they all look awkward." **Which actually works well with another prompt I received so this is a three part story. As usual unbeta'd. Thanks so much for your kind reviews and encouraging messages! I love writing for these two and it just means a lot to know someone enjoys what I've written! ^_^**

 _"You're right. You can no longer be my servant."_

With those words Ross Poldark had made his decision. Demelza stared up at him, her confusion clearly written on her pale face. He feared he had disappointed her somehow, and was unwilling to look too deeply to the source of her disappointment. Last night had been…pleasurable, and when he'd awaken he'd been surprised to find he felt no regret over what they had done. But he hadn't known the best course of action and so had left Demelza to her own devices. He cringed as he thought back to the meeting with Elizabeth. He knew he'd not handled the encounter well, but clearly he had left Demelza with the wrong impression because the only moment of regret he felt was when he realized she had run away from him.

Yet as they stood now, part of him wondered if it wouldn't be for the best, to let her go. Her eyes shown prettily in the fading light, her wild hair blowing about her face, a sad downturn to her lips, and he felt shame at the thought. She had nowhere to go because she had given her all to him. He was noble enough to want to acknowledge her sacrifice, and selfish enough to want to continue benefiting. Besides, he had taken no steps to prevent her from falling with child. For better or for worse she was a part of his life; a tree grown round a fence.

He said nothing as he shifted back on his saddle, leaving the customary space for her. She hesitated for a moment, a wary look in her eyes, but soon gave into the silent invitation, and allowed him to help her up, surprised when he settled her sideways across his lap rather than astride.

This new position forced her to wrap an arm around his middle to keep her balance as Ross nudged the horse into motion.

"Sir?" she pressed finally, trying to ignore the contented warmth she felt in his arms.

He glanced down at her, his dark eyes stern, his jaw set, but she could see a tenderness behind his gaze. "I was concerned that after last night you might be a bit…uncomfortable sitting astride."

To her horror she felt her cheeks burn. There had always been a rather brutal honesty between her and Ross, but this was all still so new and uncertain to her.

"And," Ross continued, either unaware of or choosing to ignore her pink face, "as my wife you can no longer bandy about riding like a man."

Her head whipped about so suddenly her small bag of belongings slipped out of her lap tilting her violently as she held onto the string to keep it from hitting the ground. Ross' grip tightened, holding her fast to him.

"Easy," he cooed, as the horsed danced a bit, unsure what was happening. A tug on the reigns brought the horse to a stop, and Ross, still holding her to him, looked down at her.

"Your wife?" she demanded, and if the moment hadn't called for seriousness Ross probably would have smiled at her indignation.

But this was a serious moment because he knew he had shocked her, and with that shock came feelings of fear and doubt.

"My wife," he answered firmly. "If you'll have me."

For all she knew of him, his moods, his wants and needs, he had truly surprised her.

"But–"

"But what?" he challenged, caught off guard by his own anxiety. Once he had decided they were to marry, he'd not honestly thought whether she would choose to accept or reject him.

"Ross!" she cried, as if he was a stupid, disobedient child. "Your sort don't marry my sort."

Ross raised a sardonic eyebrow. "I marry who I want to marry."

And that was all the argument she knew she was going to get.

"The question that remains," he carried on, "is whether you want to marry me."

She pressed her lips together, her head dropping as she considered his words. She supposed that was as romantic as the pragmatic Ross was able to manage. Uninvited, the image of the regal and elegant Elizabeth rose before her eyes, and she felt a wildness spring in her chest.

He had chosen _her_. He had come after _her_ and wanted to make _her_ his wife.

"Well, I suppose I do Ross," she answered gently.

"Then it's decided," he answered, once again setting the horse in motion, heading for home.

Despite the awkwardness, there was no discomfort between them. There never was with Demelza, and after a few quiet moments of rocking, her head fell to rest against his shoulder.

It was a content sort of familiarity that surrounded them as Garrick followed along dutifully, the sounds of the sea a caressing lullaby, the smell of the blossoming meadow heavy in the air.

Abruptly Demelza sat up, breaking the peace.

"Oh Judas!" she cried, her eyes big.

"What?" He snapped, disconcerted by her panic.

"Who's gonna tell Jud'n Prudie?"

The two stared at each other before both giving way to a fit of laughter.

 **to be continued.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**For Better or For Worse**

 **Part 2**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **A/N: Tumblr prompt: "When Ross asks Demelza to stop with the "sir" and start calling him "Ross" after (or right before?) their wedding." Thanks so much for the reviews! Hope you enjoy the next installment. Unbeta'd**

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In the end they chose not to tell Jud and Prudie right away, saving that bit of information for only when it would be absolutely necessary. It was, perhaps, a cowardly choice, but mostly Ross had no patience for dealing with the Paynters' insolent comments and grumblings, and Demelza wasn't overly eager to face the true depth of their decision to snub the conventions of society.

Instead they had simply arrived home, Jud had groaned, Prudie had given a smile that managed to appear more like a scowl, but neither gave any indication they knew what had gone on between master and maid over the last twenty-four hours. Fearing being put to work, the aged pair slunk quietly from the kitchen as Demelza moved to fix dinner.

Ross' eyes followed her about the room, watching her easy manner, feeling comfort in the routine.

It was the same Demelza, making the same dinner, in the same home, in the same yellow dress.

Except it wasn't.

She and he had crossed into a new state of being. If he had courted her, flirted with her, lead their relationship on a natural course, perhaps it wouldn't feel so conflicting. But, as usual, Ross had acted rashly. He'd been upset by what had happened with Jim Carter, he'd been disgusted by his own class, he'd been buried under feelings of guilt, and last night, in her distinctive way, Demezla had offered him a release from that misery, and he had taken it. He'd lost himself in her, and awoken to find this odd creature, both old and new, both complacent and exciting, this new Demelza that he knew so well.

He wished he could blame the previous night on liquor, but he knew he hadn't indulged enough to meddle his senses beyond control, and the desire he felt watching her now as he remembered how she felt in his arms, her skin so soft and smooth beneath his, her quiet gasps in his ear was testament enough that his want of her was more than just convenience.

A new dress.

That is what she would need: a new dress for this new Demelza. He could hardly expect her to wed him in the same tired gown she'd worn to scrub the floor.

At first he thought to surprise her, but quickly rejected the idea. He wouldn't know where to begin. Perhaps one day, but now, it would be more prudent to do as they have done in the past when she needed new clothes. He'd take her to town to pick out some material.

His mind swirled with thoughts. Should he try for a special license or wait the three weeks and have the bans read? He knew what people would think if they married by special license, but he supposed it was no different from what they already thought, and in any case, it was true.

He had slept with his kitchen maid.

"Demelza," he called softly.

She froze, her eyes big, as if she had forgotten he was there.

"Sur?"

"Ross," he corrected gently, waiting.

"Ross," she said in answer, her tone uncertain.

He nodded. "We'll go to town tomorrow and get something for a new dress."

She made to speak but hesitated before dropping her eyes.

"What?" He pressed.

She looked up at him, her face half hidden by her hair. "Nothin' su—Ross. Only I was goin' ta say I wouldn't want t'waste money on a fancy frock, but then I thought maybe tis alright to get a new dress. Somethin' pretty but that I can still wear about the house."

"As you wish," Ross conceded. "Though I'd not begrudge you something fancy. It's your wedding day, but I'll leave it to you."

"Sur?" She ignored his raised eyebrow. "When…when d'you suppose to have the weddin'?"

"As soon as possible I would imagine," he answered. "I see no reason to delay. I will ride over to Sawle before dinner and see Reverend Odgers about reading the banns."

She nodded. It all seemed so simple, and a little bit cold. There was an issue that needed fixing and so they were fixing it, just as they would anything that needed repairing, like a sick calf that needed tending or a hole in the roof. It felt off but neither knew how to do it any other way.

"I shouldn't be long, but have Jud and Prudie eat then send them to bed. You and I will eat together when I get back," he commanded.

"Yes sur," she said, setting to get back to work.

Ross felt a weight in his chest, an uncomfortable pressure in his belly that something wasn't quite right. He supposed that with the suddenness of the change in their relationship some discomfort was reasonable, but it felt wrong to simply walk out.

He walked towards her, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. Her hands paused their movement when his fingertips brushed along the side of her face, turning her eyes towards him. Ross felt her breathing speed up, her chest rising and falling as he stared into her eyes.

He was going to kiss her.

He stepped into her, forcing her neck back so she would look at him, taking in her soft lips and bright eyes. He leaned forward, his breath warm on her skin, stopping just shy of contact, waiting.

It was up to her to travel the remaining distance.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her chin upward, meeting his lips in a gentle, soft caress. The kiss was warm and slow and surprisingly sweet.

Demelza's hands seemed to move all on their own, craving a deepening contact, her fingers sliding up his arms to cup his elbows, holding him tight. Gradually he increased the pressure, further opening her lips; his thumb continued to lightly stroke her cheek.

She was quick to catch her breath before his lips pressed with renewed vigor, his mouth playfully pushing her back, challenging her to either retreat or stand. His tongue met hers boldly, his other hand sliding along her narrow hips, his arm wrapping around her securely.

He was hard and sturdy, his firm body pressed unyieldingly against hers as she refused to withdraw, her fingers kneading the fabric of his shirt, rising on her toes to better meet his onslaught.

The memory of sensations from the night before swam through her, and without thought she gently sucked his tongue, a shiver of delight traveling through her when he moaned with pleasure.

He pulled back some. She followed.

Their lips pushing and pressing, sometimes quickly, sometimes unendingly, until finally Ross stepped from her, both heaving for air.

"I must go," he insisted, his resolve made no more convincing as he groaned with disappointment. "We will continue this after I get back, preferably with a great deal fewer items of clothing between us."

"Sir!"

He grinned wickedly at her.

"Ross," he laughed, feigning frustration. "Not sir, not Mr. Ross, not Cap'n Ross, not Cap'n Poldark, just Ross."

"Ross!" she cried back, mirroring his playful irritation.

"Much better," he said, ignoring her blush. "Now once more before I go."

"Ross!"

"No, that shan't do," he said, his grin growing cheeky. "Once more."

Her own smile grew soft, her voice tender.

"Ross."

And he had to kiss her just one more time.

 _ **to be continued.**_

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**For Better or For Worse**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **Part 3**

 **A/N: Continuing with the Tumblr prompt:** "Could you please write how Ross asks Demelza to marry him or what happened after the wedding because in the church scene they all look awkward." **Thank you again for the wonderful reviews! Each one is treasured! I hope to continue to do this couple (and the prompts) justice. I am trying to find a good balance between the books and the show by working off mostly what happened in the show but trying to incorporate elements of the books as well.** *fingers crossed* **Unbeta'd**

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It was a quiet group that made the walk to church. Jud's angry and disgusted comments had been silenced with Ross' threat to take the whip to him while Prudie's scowling face, looking rather like a rotten potato, had Demelza pressing her lips together tightly.

It had been quite the scene when Ross told the Paynters to get dressed and come with him and Demelza to the church to act as witnesses to their marriage.

"Tedn right! Tedn proper!" Jud had cried, shock rousing him from his drunken state.

"Ye can't marry the gurl Cap'n Ross!" Prudie had declared, speaking over her husband's indignation. "She not but a kitchen wench! Nothin' fur the likes of you. Your father—"

"My father would not have stood for such insolence from the two of you, and be assured nor will I," Ross had snapped, silencing them both. "Now get your things, we leave at once. Or would you prefer to stand here and discuss how this news has come as a shock to you when the banns have been read in church these last three weeks—the very church you claim to need time off for every Sunday to attend?"

The Paynters had eyed each other in a mulish quiet, before begrudgingly trudging off to their room to collect their hats.

Ross had to resist the urge to rub at his forehead. It was easy enough to silence Jud and Prudie with his threats, but the rest of the county wouldn't bow so easily. Reverend Odgers had given him a sharp, disapproving look when they'd discussed having the banns read, but believing that it was better to be right in the eyes of the Lord than in society, he'd wearily accepted the situation. Knowing most men of Ross' station took no issue with ruining a servant girl, he saw, perhaps, some element of gallantry is Poldark's willingness to marry the girl.

The last three weeks had gone easily enough. They'd been to town to pick out the material for Demelza to make a dress, and other than her sleeping in his bed at nights, nothing more had changed. She still did all her chores, he still went about working the mine and the land, and in the evening they ate together before retiring. It seemed the difference the marriage certificate would make would be to merely move Ross' responsibility to her from a moral one to a legal one.

Movement behind him had caught his attention and he'd turned to see a weary Demelza eyeing him.

She looked pretty enough. Her new dress clean and pressed. He'd been uncertain of the color when he'd purchased the fabric, not sure how the deep maroon would work with her fiery mane, but it had all come together quite well, making her cheeks and lips a flattering pink and her hair seem a darker, richer shade. She'd somehow wrangled her curls into something more manageable and the wildflowers she'd woven throughout made her look quite lovely and earthy and very Demelza like.

"You look very fine," he said with a smile, pleased that it was true. Demelza wasn't a classic beauty, her wide mouth, high forehead and red hair weren't highly enviable, but her skin was smooth and pale, her eyes bright and healthy and a most distracting mixture of green and blue, and she had a full mouth of teeth. And besides, Ross likes her wide mouth because when she smiled it he couldn't help but smile back, and he was partial to her wild curls because they welcomed his fingers into their softness as they made love.

"Yes," he said, his voice a little high as memories played out in his mind. He cleared his throat. "I have something for you."

He opened the back door and stepped out for a moment then returned with a small bouquet of wild flowers. Demelza had been quite sassy with him a few nights previous and Ross had teasingly threatened to saddle her with hothouse flowers, knowing how utterly ridiculous she found the idea.

"Oh no Ross," she'd moaned, contrite. "Don't. Who'd t'ever want a waste of money on payin' for somethin' so unnatural as flowers grown inside when there's a whole world of flowers for the pickin'?"

He'd laughed at her sincere distress over such an idea. "Because my dear not everyone is like you, not everyone can see the beauty in the wild things."

And seeing the delighted smile on her face now as she breathed in the blooms made him glad he'd spent the hour just after sunrise picking the best of the blossoms near Nampara.

She held the bouquet now tightly in her hands, one arm linked through his as they approached the steps to the church and Ross felt at a loss of what to say, his heart had begun beating rapidly in his chest, banging out a defining beat in his ears, like the call to battle he'd heard just before his fellow soldiers had been gunned down in the humid Virginia heat. It wasn't fear, but it was something more akin to feelings of inevitability. What else would he do with Demelza but marry her? It just all suddenly felt exceedingly final.

The last three weeks Demelza had seemed contented enough, but he felt her stumble slightly on the step and for the first time he took in her face, the tight press of her lips, the strain behind her eyes. He managed an encouraging smile, but her answering one lacked sincerity.

"Ah, Captain Poldark," The Reverend Mr. Odgers called out as they walked down the aisle towards him.

"Reverend," Ross said by way of greeting. "You know Demelza."

With a gentle tug from Ross, Demelza stepped forward, feeling shy and rather nervous.

"Good day to you Sur," she offered, bending her knees in a lopsided sign of deference.

Rev. Odgers didn't say much, but gave Demelza a thin, dry smile that reminded her of the hard bark of a tree.

"I see you've brought the requisite number of witnesses," he observed matter-of-factly, though his gaze did not miss the sour expressions on the Paynters' faces, nor the fact that they chose the very back pew.

"Such as they are," Ross grumbled, throwing the pair a withering look.

"Right, well, shall we begin?" The reverend asks, stepping aside and motioning towards the registry. "If I could get the pair of you to sign."

Ross nodded before stepping up and taking the quill, his hand moving quickly, his strokes bold and heavy as he signed his name. He then turned to his wife-to-be.

"Demelza?"

"Yes sur," she answered, moving to take the quill from him, realizing only too late what she had said.

Her face flushed as Ross stiffened, her eyes darting to where the reverend stood, his eyebrow now raised in question.

"Ross," she corrected quickly, but her voice shook too much, her gaffe already apparent. She threw Ross an apologetic look, but his own face gave nothing away. The tension in the small chapel seemed to rock them all about, like a boat caught in the surf, bearing the constant banging and beating of the water.

She fought to keep her hand steady as she took the extended writing tool and, as carefully and as neatly as possible, signed her name next to his, just as she had practiced over and over in the last few weeks.

Rev. Odgers cleared his throat conspicuously. "I do hope this wedding is not being carried out under duress." His eyes bore into Ross knowingly.

At Demelza's lowered brow Ross explained, "He means am I forcing you to marry me against your will."

The unusual shyness fled from Demelza's face as she hurriedly denied such an idea. "Oh no sur, no…no." Her words were choppy and breathless, as if she wanted to say more but couldn't figure out how to say it. Ross assumed it was because she was afraid of revealing too much of their relationship.

The older man eyed the pair, his gaze lingering knowingly on Demelza's figure. "Yes, well, I also perform christenings…when the time comes."

His glib statement set the couple on edge, causing a spark of irritation in Ross. "We'll remember that when, as you say, the time comes, but perhaps you should concern yourself with the marriage ceremony first."

Ross' words were politely spoken, but the hard warning in his voice was met with a disgruntled huff as Rev. Odgers reached for his Bible.

As he did so Ross felt Demelza shift next to him, felt her fidgeting with the flowers in her hands, could smell the sweet sent of the soap she used on her hair. Ross knew this marriage would damn him in the eyes of society, knew what they would say about Demelza behind their ornate fans, and smooth, unworked hands, so it really shouldn't matter one way or another, but he was glad they'd recently discovered she was not yet with child. He'd not thought much about children before, just assumed they would be a natural part of the progression of his life, but now that he was to have a wife he'd considered the matter in great detail, surprised to find he was excited about the prospect. But right now, as she faced a future of whisperings and snubs, he was at least happy to know that anyone small enough to count the months, digging for sordid gossip and scandal, would be left sorely disappointed on that score.

What a pathetic consolation he offered to his bride.

"Then let us start," Reverend Odgers clipped. "Dearly beloved…"

 **to be continued?**

 **So I originally planned on this being just 3 chapters, but I'm considering at least adding one more chapter, or adding as many "filler" chapters to what happened in between what we saw on the show as I get inspired or prompted to write, if people are interested in me continuing.**

 **And, as always, thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**For Better or For Worse**

 **Part 4**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **A/N: sorry for the long delay in updating. Life. Thank you so much for the reviews and kind PMs! The support for this story has been overwhelming! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It felt so wrong to leave poor Ross and Demelza on such an uncomfortable note in the last chapter that I had to add this fluffy one. I have a few more ideas for chapters so we'll see how it goes, but I also think this chapter could work as an end to this particular story if need be. (I'm so indecisive! Sorry!). Unbeta'd**

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"Tedn fair. Tedn right. Tedn just."

Ross Poldark's gaze sharpened as he glared at his workman. "I'll have no more out of you tonight. Finish your task then take the rum with you when you go. You and Prudie can toast my marriage with a glass, then off to bed."

"S'pose you'll wantin' me ta be grateful," Jud answered, his tone leaving no room for speculation on just how far from grateful he was.

"I want you to finish and be gone," Ross replied back, his gaze hard, but Jud paid no mind.

"Tedn right," he mumbled again, dumping the last of the steaming water into the tub, glaring at Demelza, who sat quietly by the fire, eyes boring into the floor.

Ross kept his temper in check as the old man tittered about his task, stomping around, loudly going through the cabinet as he pulled out the bottle of strong liquor.

"One glass," he emphasized, raising a finger to further his point. "Do you hear? One."

"Aye sir," Jud sneered before slinking out angrily, the door slamming loudly behind him.

"It'll be gone by morning," Damelza's sweet voice warned behind him, prompting Ross to spin around to look at her. She'd been so quiet since they'd returned from the church, so unlike Demelza. If he was honest with himself, which he tried his best to be, he would admit he was afraid she was regretting all that had transpired in the last day, but the small smile on her face, though shy and a bit more hesitant than it had in the past, gave him hope.

He moved towards her carefully, mindful that her entire world had changed drastically in only a matter of hours. "If it keeps them out from underfoot and allows me a few precious hours undisturbed with my new wife, then it's a small price to pay."

Her cheeks pinked endearingly, her eyes shifting about the room nervously. "Your wife," she repeated softly, her shock mirroring his own as her tongue tried out the new concept.

"My wife," he said firmly, crouching down to where she sat near the fire, ensuring his eyes met hers.

They'd returned home quickly following the ceremony, having invited the Reverend back for a small wedding breakfast that Demelza had prepared. The conversation had struggled over the perfectly prepared pastries, the Paynters' mulish expressions casting a pall until, fed up with their grumblings, Ross charged them with mucking out the chicken coop, which only led to further complaining and arguing. Demelza had, out of habit and wanting to restore peace, immediately volunteered to do the job, causing Reverend Odgers to choke on the piece of cold ham he'd been chewing, his coughing and sputtering setting Garrick to barking, which won Demelza a glare from her new husband who had graciously been ignoring the fact that she'd let the dog inside but now pointedly demanded his removal. She'd complied but not before glowering at him and being sure to slam the door with particular emphasis.

And thus had begun married life.

Despite the tumultuous start of the day, they had eventually reestablished order—still having the daily chores to get done—but now, as the sun lowered in the sky, casting its oranges and pinks across the gray water, the light dimming, the pair gazed at each other, seeing every thing familiar, yet everything so new. It had always been so easy between them; from the moment they met they had sort of fallen into each other's lives. Somehow, over the months, they had grown into each other, like the branches of trees that had reached across a great expanse and wound together. That first night, as their bodies had connected so intimately, it had felt right. Even as the awkwardness of uncertainty hummed between them, Ross could not deny how much he wanted her again, wanted that connection.

"Come," he beckoned, standing, extending his hand out to her. "I cannot offer you a wedding trip—"

Demelza shot to her feet, shaking her head. "Sir, no, I don't need no fancy weddin' trip."

"Ross," he corrected gently, a dimple appearing as he fought to keep his smile in check, before continuing as if she hadn't spoken. "But we can begin our wedding night with one of life's greatest pleasures."

Demelza eyed the copper bathing tub skeptically. She knew the gentrified folk had all manner of peculiar tastes, and she had to admit she'd grown to appreciate the happiness that came from sleeping under clean blankets, wiping the face with clean rags, swilling under the pump to rid the body of the day's grime and dirt, but Ross' penchant for stripping naked and submerging fully into the sea or, in the cold winter months dragging the tub into the kitchen, was something she had been both fascinated with and disturbed by. She'd not been raised with much of a religious direction, and considering the nights spent in anticipation of her wedding vows (several times over by this point) with her master, she doubted anyone would look to her as a paragon of virtue, but there seemed something decidedly sinful about bathing, which she voiced to Ross.

He grinned at her hesitation. "It's nothing to worry over Demelza."

Stepping towards her, he placed his hands on her hips, laughing at her furrowed brow.

"It's not as bad as all that," he chided gently, his fingers sliding up along her sides, causing her to squirm away from him. He caught her fast, a playful challenge in his eyes as he shook his head. She couldn't help the answering smile on her lips, knowing she'd already lost.

She watched in silence as Ross' worked rough hands slowly began unclasping the front of her new dress. She could smell the day's work cling to his clothes: the dried grass that had been cut, the dirt that had been turned and broken, the wood that had been chopped, all mingled with the scent that was Ross. Her heart warmed as she stood, her eyes moving to his face, so serious now as he focused on his task of undressing her. That morning as he'd escorted her to the church he'd looked so regal, his well tailored coat sitting perfectly on his shoulders, his hair brushed and shining, a snowy white cravat about his neck. He'd looked every bit the country squire so far above her that she'd been nervous to even speak to him. She preferred the Ross that stood before her now, coat gone, hair wild from the sweat and heat of the day and most recently the effort of pulling the heavy tub into the house, the dark curls of his chest peeking through his open shirt, his nails blackened with the soil of the earth. She didn't feel so far separated from this Ross.

"Ross," she whispered as he pushed the fabric of her dress down her shoulders, not knowing what she wanted to say, but wanting to say something.

"Demelza," he answered back easily, seeming to understand, to know what she wanted, to somehow fulfill her unrealized expectations.

Her hands clung to his shoulder as he bent, helping her step out of her dress, leaving her standing in the glow of the fire in only her thin chemise. She'd not realized how quickly a person could become accustom to the nakedness of intimacy, but the last three weeks had taught her a great deal of what went on between a man and a woman, and it seemed ridiculous to suffer a bout of prudish indignation over being stripped naked for a bath when the night previous had seen Ross' mouth on nearly every inch of her body.

Still, the summer night had cooled, and Demelza couldn't help the shiver that moved through her barely clothed body.

Ross' gaze sharpened on her, and Demelza had a pretty good idea in what direction his mind had wondered as his eyes darkened.

"Come," he beckoned, both choosing to ignore the slight crack in his voice. He unlaced her chemise with practiced ease, allowing the garment to fall to the ground, and, unable to resist the impulse, kissed her collarbone before leading her over to the steaming water and helping her step in.

Her breath rushed from her as her toes met the heated water. It was unlike anything she'd felt before. She knew the sensation of the ocean at the end of a hot summer day, the water warmed by the shining sun, but it had never been this hot, this inviting. It took a moment for her body to adjust to the intense heat, but soon she was allowing Ross to lower her fully into the tub, a sigh of delight escaping her lips before she could stop it.

Ross laughed softly, clearly pleased by her reaction.

"Feels nice?"

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the copper tub, reveling as the warmth seeped into her tired, overworked muscles.

"Nice?" she could only scoff, her eyes remaining closed. "I 'spect I'd find nothing that feels quite so wonderful."

"Nothing?" Ross asked, sitting on the floor next to her, his arm resting on the edge of the tub before moving to allow his fingers to glide along the skin of her shoulder then down to the gentle curve of her breast to dip into the water and tease the tightening nipple hidden beneath.

Demelza felt a frisson of satisfaction shudder through her.

"Nothin'" she teased slowly, a smirk on her lips.

"Oh my dear Demelza," Ross practically growled. "You have much to learn about the…pleasures of life."

Delighted anticipation bubbled in her stomach, setting her heart to pounding.

He leaned toward her, his eyes on the pink skin of her lips, drawing her to him. She waited, she breathed, she watched but when she felt no pressuring contact she had to fight the urge to huff with inpatients.

His grin grew decidedly wicked and self-satisfied. He knew what she wanted and happily left her wanting as his lips hovered near hers.

When he finally moved he slid passed her suddenly and commanded her to sit up.

Her confusion was apparent, but did as he insisted, watching as he shuffled to where a pitcher sat warming near the fire. He grabbed it, then returned back to kneel by the tub.

"Lean your head back."

She once again did as instructed.

"Close your eyes."

In the darkness she heard and felt the water ripple and tinkle around her as the pitcher disturbed its glassy perfection.

She gasped when the warmth rained down onto the crown of her head, sending streams of water cascading down through her curls and onto her shoulder and further still. She heard his quiet chuckle as he repeated the action again and again, showering her tenderly until her hair was a wet, heavy mane.

"I've one more surprise for you," he whispered near her ear.

Demelza barely cracked open an eye, feeling warm and more relaxed than she had any memory of ever being. He shushed her back to closing her eyes and she heard the clinking of a bottle being opened and the hint of flowers tickled her senses.

His hands soon returned to her, his fingers working their way into her hair, carefully massaging the skin beneath. Demelza had the distinct feeling that if she were a cat she'd be set to purring. His gentle touch kept him from pulling at her tangles; rather the circular motion against her scalp and the sweet scent of roses lulled away the anxieties of the day.

He reached once again for the pitcher, pouring the water through her hair once, then twice.

"Feeling better?" he breathed against her cheek, allowing her to lean back, her wet hair resting against his sleeve.

"I'm getting you wet," she said lightheartedly, sleepy eyes opening to examine his face.

Ross seemed to think about this seriously, frowning with concentration before setting his present for her, the bottle of Rose Water, on the ground and sliding his arm from beneath her, leaving her head to rest against the edge of the metal tub.

Her eyes grew wide as he slide off his braces and tugged his dampened shirt over his head, revealing the well defined chest beneath. When his hands moved to the button on his trousers she objected. "Sur! You can't think…there's no room!"

"Ross," he said, not pausing his disrobing, stripping himself bare before her. The sun had left the sky, the dancing fire casting shadows about the room, and there he stood, her husband, a predatory grin on his scarred face.

He ignored her cries of protest as he stepped into the tub, water sloshing over the edge as he settled to the bottom and maneuvered her onto his lap.

"Time to show you how truly wicked taking a bath can be."

"Sur…

…oh

…oh Ross…"

* * *

 **Thank for reading!**


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